A Collection of Roses
by Neverlong
Summary: Oneshots inspired by the colors of roses and their meanings. A wide spectrum of friendship to romance and everything in between, this can span from fluffy and cliche to unconventional methods of showing love to your country of choice. Reader x Various
1. Lavender Rose

**A/N:The color purple has a traditional association with royalty. In this regard, shades of lavender roses suggest an air of regal majesty and splendor. ****The lavender rose can also signify a ****_love at first sight, _****or an****_ enchantment _****with someone****_._**

* * *

When you met him, it was awkward. Undoubtedly awkward, considering the fact that you were on the job while he was a patron of yours. A customer. Nothing more.

Yet when you had waltzed out in front of your audience to announce the need for a volunteer, he had found whatever pull he described it as irresistible. Again and again you had asked him to explain himself when he had sought you out after your show, after the performers were asleep or drinking or whatever it was that they did in the dimming hours of the evening. He couldn't describe it as anything more than a magnetism, a tug of faith that had urged him to follow after you.

You had scoffed, of course. _Faith? Faith is useless, and only ungrounded beings can be moved by faith._

In the end you had succumbed to allow him one date. It was all you could give to him, with your constantly traveling spectacle and ever-present want for more. More money, more freedom to perform, more people, more viewers, _more_.

His idea of a date could have been considered your maximum capacity for romance, as he had set everything up perfectly for a picnic at sunset. Well, if only he hadn't have had to worry about you and your suspicions about his affection. Being the tough owner of a show as outsized and variant as yours had hardened everything about you from the inside out.

You had showed up in ripped jeans and a gravely stained tank top while he had appeared to pick you up in what had to be the most extravagant clothing you had seen on a man. His tattered blond locks had been brushed back in a ponytail and tied with a red string of ribbon. As his eyes scanned over your confidant, yet nonchalant figure, he had grinned at you anyway. It was odd, trying to make him unimpressed with you while he was smiling so tenderly towards you.

_You must think I'm like every other date you've ever been with, right? Like I'll be so easy…_

But he had never told you anything like that, and it slightly had you relieved when he decided to keep things relatively platonic. He had confounded you around every step of the date, and hadn't forced you into anything other than a simple peck on your hand. It had been so completely bizarre when he had seen you in average, trashy clothes and had kissed your knuckles ever so gently as if you were a lady whom he was escorting for the evening.

As you complained about the walk to his desired destination, he offered to carry you and literally swept you off your feet. When you ate like a glutton as he brought out the food that he had claimed to make, he merely laughed at you and nibbled on a piece of the loaf of bread he had packed while watching you bemusedly. You had spilled wine on him "accidentally," which created even more problems when he noted that even if you were quite graceful in your natural setting underneath the tents of your circus, you were clumsy outside of the habitat. He had "helped" you by placing his hand over yours on the glass and assisting you as you drank. You elbowed him ruthlessly when he tried to kiss you, but he had apologized for being too straight-forward and complimented your strength.

There was simply no way to get him to stop treating you like royalty. No matter what twists or kinks you threw into his original plans for the evening, he always adapted and flexibly shot up through a different route. It was almost irritating how tender and affectionate he was towards you.

But you supposed that after he led you back to your personal tent and tried (and failed) to kiss your cheek goodnight, it was okay. And when you walked to your makeshift mattress and desk, you saw a note that he must've placed there before you left as you hadn't allowed him entry to your private tent afterwards. You sat on your mattress, kicking your feet up to the ottoman in the middle of your area to get comfortable as you read his undoubtedly sappy note.

_'Mon pur cher (1),_

_I cannot help this feeling that keeps drowning me each time I see your beautiful face. It is like the ocean, which pulls me in deeper against my will and your combined efforts. Please do not hold it against me if each time you smile I find myself being dragged in to kiss you, as your simper is as brilliantly implemented as the acts I watched you perform in earlier this evening. _

_I know that you are not the type of person to wish to hear something like this, but I find myself drawn to you by a fated love and I know that you must feel the same. I have left you a rose to wear for your show tomorrow, simply tie the red string around your hair so that I may know whether or not pursuing you will be an option. I have also made sure that there are no thorns or piercing leaves on the stem to mar your silky skin. I will be watching and waiting desperately for tomorrow, mon amie (2)._

_Sincerest of loves,_

_Francis'_

You found yourself laughing uncontrollably at the amount of metaphorical language he used. Tears sprung at your eyes before you could catch yourself, and you glanced over at the desk where you had found the note to spot a light purple rose that must have been artificially colored. It was enchanting, really, and there wasn't a single thorn as he had said.

_Desperate is right-this guy is great!_

When the next day rolled around, Francis had showed up at your show in the front of the rows of spectators. You flashed a cheeky grin at him especially, brandishing the flower knotted into your hair as you continued your announcing. He got the idea, as his eyes brightened and he relaxed into his seat even more.

_Perhaps it's cruel what I'm doing to his "love at first sight," but if he's willing to give himself to me for my entertainment, what could I have to lose? _

* * *

**So, a bit of irony at the end, a bit of a tsundere reader, and then the conclusion to my first oneshot of this miniseries. Next up is Japan, but feel free to ask about requests (as long as you have a flower color to go with it)! I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters, nor do I own you~**

**Translations:**

**(1)Mon pur cher means My pure/unadulterated dear**

**(2)Mon amie means My love**


	2. White Rose

You had never thought the day could come soon enough. You were panting in near silent anxiety, calming yourself down as you took reassuring breaths. It was just you in a room, after you had told everyone to leave to give you some peace and quiet.

_Peace and quiet_...

* * *

You had met him at a park, believe it or not. It was a sunny day, warm weather, birds chirping, squirrels running up trees that were in full bloom—the whole late spring appeal. And you were sitting under a tree, writing and taking notes on the scenery as part of a college course assignment that you'd been given last week.

But not much was getting done as you enjoyed the feeling of a gentle breeze that blew your hair in your face and over your eyes. The trees seemed to whistle as the wind blew through the leaves and boughs, creating a harmony for the birds. It even smelled good, which you hadn't thought much about before you had left your dorm room. It was serene sitting under the shade, breathing in the aroma of new flowers and the petals that scattered in the wind. The most you had done was doodle a little picture of a tree with an odd drawing that could pass as either a squirrel or a cactus if you squinted hard enough.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" A man asked you, and you could remember the way that you had jumped, startled at the sound of someone else's voice. You nodded, humming your agreement politely, but not investing yourself in a conversation. If the man was just going to try some small talk, maybe he'd eventually go away so that the world could be tranquil and undisturbed again.

Unfortunately enough, he sat beside you. At least he was nice enough to give you personal space.

"I've seen you here a lot during the week. You always look so happy." At this you slowly slid away from him, wondering how long he'd been watching you. Why was he looking at you whenever you came, anyway? "A-ah, I wasn't stalking you or anything! I-I'm very sorry, I didn't mean...that's not what I meant. I like to take walks here, and I saw you last week, and you've been here almost everyday at the same time so it just sort of happened that I saw you, I didn't mean anything by what I said!"

At his nonsensical rambling, you cracked a smile. In fact, you even started to giggle at this man who was talking to you as if he were a high school boy, fresh out of pickup lines.

And then he started to smile a little, too.

"B-but anyway...I wanted to know what you do here that makes you so happy." You shrugged, placing your hand over your empty page as if self-conscious of the fact that you had nothing written down for your class.

"It's peaceful and quiet. I think I like that the most about this park: the fact that it's so serene." He smiled back for real this time, a crooked little smile that made you flush and glance down at your paper to avoid seeing such a beautiful grin again.

"It is nice..." The man looked at the park with his warm sable eyes. He saw the swing set that a young boy played on with his older sister, the slides that a mother helped her child down, the group of older children playing tag and running into the trees, the elderly couple sitting on a bench in the distance. "W-would you mind if...if I asked you to walk with me?"

You smiled shyly, tucking your notes into the carrying bag beside you.

"Not at all."

* * *

"(Name), it's time for you to come out now." You put on that same shy little smile you had used on that day, looking at yourself one more time in the mirror before you stood up and opened the door.

"You look gorgeous," your (dad/step-dad/father figure) murmured, eyes lighting up as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I can't believe my little girl's...you're absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"

You nodded, already dabbing away tears as you thought about it. About everything that had happened, everything that had led up to this, everything in the future. And it only made it so much clearer how much you needed to do this. You couldn't get cold feet, and you couldn't back down today. This wasn't a time to let your shyness get the better of you.

"I'm sure."

And you were led down a hallway, across an empty room already filling with dishes and cups and food and drinks and a humble cake in the center of a table, just waiting to be eaten. You smiled a little, where just the corners of your lips twitched upwards. Later, you reminded yourself.

You were led to a large set of double doors that led to the outside. You could already hear the chatter of people out there—only a small crowd, but enough to make you nervous. Your hands clenched at the skirt of your dress, feeling the bright myriad of flowers that stuck out from your otherwise white dress. A crown of white roses were twisted into a braid with your hair, and you could feel a little sweat forming at the back of your neck.

You took off your shoes, placing them between the doorway and a little table with a bouquet sitting in it. You inhaled deeply, earning a reassuring smile from your dad.

"You'll do great, I'll even walk you down to him and all you'll have to do is repeat the words that you'll be given. It's easier than it looks, trust me. You're a beautiful woman now, and everyone's out there to cheer you on, alright?" You nodded, blotting your eyes so that you wouldn't smear the makeup that you had applied. With a swallow and a reach to the bouquet of white roses, you felt your dad's hand squeeze your elbow. "You can do this."

You nodded, smiling before the doors opened and you spotted him at the other end of the makeshift altar that had been made outside to fit your wants for the wedding. For once, you held your head high and walked down the aisle barefoot, listening to the silence that hung in the air like the after effects of a mother's lullaby. You breathed in the scent of late spring, and then felt your dad let you go.

You could hardly look at him. If you were gorgeous, then he was breath-taking in a tuxedo and with his dark hair calculatedly messy. He shot you a sheepish smile, but his cheeks turned pale pink as you stood before him with a bouquet in your arms that you handed back down to your dad. You grabbed his hands as dictated and felt your face warm at the contact.

The vows went by breathlessly, with a few stutters that led to a little chuckle across the small entourage and reddening of faces at the front.

"You may now kiss the bride." And he did. It was a mere moment for both of your sakes, that one second when you could feel his lips brush unsurely against yours for the first time. The clapping of the crowd seemed distant, and time stopped for a moment as you counted your heartbeat in your head. It was more than enough to convince you that you had made the right choice, and you two hurried out of the shaded altar to the aisle where the people were already filing out to congratulate you.

You both politely thanked each and every person, holding onto each others' hands for fear of being dragged apart. You twined your fingers with his before you found your dad handing you back your bouquet of flowers, which you promptly threw to the crowd and heard more cheering and laughter. Picking up the skirt of your dress, you lifted it and started to make a run for the car parked just beyond the corner.

You couldn't help but laugh as you hopped into the passenger's seat, smoothing down your dress as your new husband started the car. You also couldn't help the flush in your cheeks as you leaned over and pecked his lips, one more time.

"I love you, Kiku Honda." He smiled humbly at your gentle proclamation, gingerly pulling a rose free from your hair.

"I love you too, (First name) Honda."

You exchanged little kisses throughout the car ride, basking in the notion of being newlyweds. It was a calming feeling that swelled up from your heart, and must've reached through him when you touched his hand because he smiled at you. And you had to look away at that adorable little crooked grin he gave you.

* * *

White Rose of Purity, Innocence, Sympathy, Spirituality. Early tradition used white roses as a symbol for true love. Also known as the bridal rose, _**the white rose is a traditional wedding flower.**_


End file.
